


I See You In A Different Light

by yourfrendlyneighborhoodfangirl



Series: Destiel [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel and Dean Winchester Being Idiots, Dean's a complete idiot, Destiel - Freeform, Falling In Love, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Idiots in Love, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Witches, and Cas is just cute, and while listening to P!ATD, as always, because i'm that kind of person, but Sam knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 09:49:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26849959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourfrendlyneighborhoodfangirl/pseuds/yourfrendlyneighborhoodfangirl
Summary: While hunting a witch, Dean accidentally drinks a love potion that makes you see the one person you love.Or, just what it says in the tags. Dean's an idiot, Sam knows (he always knows), and Cas is just cute, as always.Based on a prompt from Tumblr on Pinterest.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Destiel [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958527
Comments: 2
Kudos: 74





	I See You In A Different Light

**Author's Note:**

> I am only on Season 5 of Supernatural, so apologies if anything doesn't fit with canon. Except Destiel, which is practically canon anyway.

_ I  _ _ see you in a different light, candlelight, moonlight _

_ I see you in a different way, through different eyes, and it's so nice _

_ I see you like I've never seen you before _

_ The way I want to see you much more _

_ Oh tonight, tonight I see you in a different light _

_ -I See You In A Different Light _ , Chanté Moore

Slowly, Dean pushed the door. It swung open easily with a  _ Cr-eee-eee-ak.  _ Cautiously, he peered inside the house, pointing his gun first. Seeing nothing, he entered the room, motioning for Sam and Cas to follow.

The first room was a simple living room that could have been a part of any house from any neighborhood in anywhere, America. There was a comfy-looking gray couch with a matching gray armchair, a small glass table, and a few scattered photographs and potted plants. The only thing that was out of place was the blood staining the white rug. The splatters made a trail to the next room, and Dean carefully followed them, gun still out and finger on the trigger.

He entered the room and let out the breath he’d been holding, dropping his gun. The kitchen, like the living room, was unassuming except for one detail. The body on the floor. The witch was a middle-aged woman, her black hair streaked with gray framing her head. She lay in a pool of her own blood, and a knife stuck straight out from her abdomen.

“What do you think killed her?” Sam asked. 

“Herself? Another witch?” Dean asked. “Beats me.”

“I’m going to go check the other rooms,” Cas said, exiting out the other side of the room.

“I’ll go the other way, if you want to examine her,” Sam said, jerking his head toward the dead woman.

“Alright,” Dean replied. He crept closer to the body. There wasn’t much to examine. She was dead, having bled out from the stab wound in her stomach. No other marks on the body, no sign of a struggle. Her eyes and mouth were both wide open.

“Freaky,” he commented to himself. Then he noticed the shattered bottle lying next to her, the clear liquid trickling among the jagged shards of glass. Tracing the path the bottle would’ve taken in its tumble, he found a shelf bolted to the wall at about eye level.

The plain wooden shelf was a sharp contrast to the colorful bottles that sat atop it. They were of all shapes and sizes- tall ones and squat ones, skinny bottles and large, bulging bottles, blues and greens, reds and oranges and any other color you could think of. Dean picked up one that was bright pink and uncapped it, sniffing. It smelled like roses and rain. Interesting. He swirled the pale liquid inside and wondered what it did.

He was just examining a brown bottle identical to the one that lay shattered on the ground, but plain compared to the rest, when Cas’s voice called from another room. “Dean,” he said, in his deep voice. Dean jumped and shoved the bottle into his pocket. For a second he felt like a kid again, caught examining one of his dads prized guns.

“Dean, Sam, you better get in here,” Cas called, more urgently. Dean moved quickly down the hallway, wondering if Cas had encountered trouble. At the end of the hallway was a small bedroom, and Dean flung the door open. 

Cas was standing in the center of the room, hands out to show he meant no harm. He was motioning to a man who sat on the center of the large bed, curled up into a tight ball. This man’s hands were covered in blood, and when Dean stepped into the room he visibly flinched.

“Dean, you’re scaring him,” Cas chastened him. He turned back to the man, his annoyed look softening into one of pity. “It’s ok, he’s my friend. He won’t hurt you,” he murmured. Dean’s annoyance at being scolded melted away as he watched Cas, how his forehead wrinkled in concern, his hair tousled adorably. Not that Dean looked at Cas’s hair a lot.

Cas motioned for Dean to follow him into the hall, and they joined Sam. “He killed her,” Cas explained. “He woke up outside, tied up, with his wife standing nearby and chanting in a ‘strange language’. He escaped and ran into the house to call 911, and she came after him brandishing a knife. He knocked her to the ground and stabbed her in self defense.”

“Did he call the police?” Dean asked sharply. 

Cas nodded, meeting his eyes. “About five minutes ago, just before we got here.”

Dean swore. “They’ll be here any second,” Sam said. “We better go.”

* * *

Back at the motel room, they collapsed onto various beds and couches. They had been hunting the witch for two days with few breaks, and they were all exhausted.

Dean flung his coat onto the bed and got up to examine the contents of their tiny fridge. He pulled out a half-eaten slice of pie, licking his lips. 

“Hey Cas,” he called. “I’ve got a flask of whiskey in my coat pocket. Toss it over here.” He took a huge bite of pie.

“Really, Dean?” Sam asked. “You aren’t tired?”

“I am tired,” Dean replied. “That’s why I need a drink.”

Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed the TV remote to flick through the channels. Cas rummaged through Dean’s coat, grabbed a bottle, and threw it to Dean. Dean caught it, uncapped it, and took a swig. Then he frowned.

“A bit stronger than usual,” he commented. “Want some?” He took a longer drink and tossed the bottle to Sam, who shook his head and uncapped the bottle. Sam lifted it to take a sip, then paused.

“Cas, where did you get this?” he asked slowly.

“Dean’s pocket, like he said,” Cas replied. “Why?”

“This isn’t whiskey,” Sam said, shaking his head. 

“Of course it is,” Dean said. “What else could it be?”

“It’s,” Sam started, and Dean turned to Cas to ask him to check his other coat pocket. Dean froze. Cas was fumbling through Dean’s coat, a small frown on his face. His face was scrunched up, the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. He looked... _ beautiful. _ “A love potion,” Sam finished.

Cas glanced up. “A love potion?” 

“Yeah, it says it makes you see the person you love most,” Sam read off the bottle. He turned to Dean and said something, but Dean didn’t care. Cas had just looked at Dean and  _ oh _ . His eyes were… like pools or whatever people wrote horrible poetry comparing eyes to. Dean wanted to write that horrible poetry, to sing a cheesy love song. He finally got what all those things were talking about. Cas’s soft eyes glinting their bright blue, his always messy hair that looked like it would be  _ so soft _ between Dean’s fingers, the form of his body, always a bit rigid from the muscle memory of being an angel. 

Sam laughed and Dean finally tore his eyes away from Cas. “What?” he asked, annoyed. “It’s obviously not working.”

Another chuckle escaped Sam. “Are you sure?”

Now Dean was really annoyed. What was Sam talking about? All Dean saw was “Cas,” he said, then flushed. “I mean I only see Cas, and you. Those ‘potions’ are bogus.”

Cas’s eyes bounced from Dean, to Sam, and back to Dean. “What do you mean Sam?” Dean loved Cas’s deep voice, the way it rumbled and made Cas’s throat bob. That voice that he could hear anywhere, that he would always follow, no matter what. And Cas’s confused look was so cute, Dean just wanted to… to…

To kiss him.

Sam caught Dean’s look again and smirked. “Nothing,” he said. “Of course it didn’t work. It’s a love potion.”


End file.
